


electrical dances of minus and plus

by littlesaintmick



Series: midnight to midnight [1]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, More tags to be added, Oral Sex, POV Alternating, Trans Male Character, Trans Mickey Milkovich, Unwanted Pregnancy, Vaginal Sex, discussions of abortion, it's not even projecting at this point, just a nice but not super fun introspective on the life of a gay trans man, listen i'm a short angry white trash trans dude named mick this was really bound to happen, not super explicit rape scene, oc characters make an appearance, slurs?, takes a hard turn away from canon in season three, there are other characters but they aren't really 'vital' yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:41:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24770218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlesaintmick/pseuds/littlesaintmick
Summary: mickey has always just been mickey. that's what ian loves about him.(title from alex reed's 'midnight to midnight', from his album 'midnight to midnight: an lp written, recorded, and released in 24 hours')
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Series: midnight to midnight [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1791397
Comments: 19
Kudos: 110





	electrical dances of minus and plus

**Author's Note:**

> ayyyyy first shameless fic! fun times! i figured it was only right since i, a white trash trans man/person named mick who likes redheads, got into the show (as much as one can get into shameless...) and found myself invested in the mickey character and thought 'why not make him trans'? life's more fun that way. like i said in the tags: takes a HARD turn away from canon sometime in season three. i didn't want to have this be like my recent wayleska fic where i put out like 13k words in one chapter, so i'm trying to break this up more.

Mickey had always just been Mickey. 

Ian never really questioned when Mickey started being a boy. He was always just There, loud and dirty and angry and usually with stolen goods in his pockets, and at some point it had become accepted-or maybe not ‘accepted’, but known-around school and the neighborhood that Mickey was, yes indeed, a boy. Of course, not everyone accepted it or went along with it, but a fair few people did; Ian did, because the first time he heard about it, he was nine and didn’t care because why would he? If Mickey said he was a boy, then. Well. Whatever. Ian was more worried about Mickey and his brothers running around with switchblades and pipes, chasing after kids in the neighborhood. He didn’t care what Mickey was; he just wanted to stay away from him.

That didn’t really work. 

It wasn’t that Ian thought Mickey was seeking him out, but it sure did seem like they ended up in the same place at the same time a lot of the time. He supposed it wasn’t so bad, sometimes, when that happened. Like, a lot of the times it was, because it ended with Ian and Lip frantically running while the Milkovich brothers tried to shake them down. 

Ian was twelve and at the hospital because Lip had broken his leg, and Mickey was there, handcuffed to a chair. Ian walked up to him and sat down next to him. 

“The fuck do you want?”

“To wait. Lip’s got a broken leg. Nowhere else to sit.”

Mickey looked around, seeing that there was genuinely not really anywhere free, and he huffed, shrinking into himself a little. He didn’t have a jacket on or anything and it was chilly in the waiting room, and he wrapped his free arm around his middle. 

“Why’re you handcuffed?”

“Cops brought me in.”

“What did you do?”

“Nothin’, yet, keep askin’ stupid goddamn questions and I’ll give ‘em a reason to cuff the other hand-”

Ian rolled his eyes. They weren’t friends-far from it-but he knew Mickey well enough to know when a threat was real and when he was just talking to hear himself speak. Mickey seemed to pick up on that-that Ian knew the distinction, and he huffed again. He chewed on his lip for a second and glanced at Ian. 

“Got...into a fight.”

“How’d that land you in a hospital? Don’t you usually just go get high after fights?”

“Told you. Stupid cops got me.”

“Think you’re going to juvie?”

“Probably.”

They were quiet. Juvie sucked no matter what, but Ian had heard that last time Mickey was in there-for what had only been a three-month sentence-he had been...different. Ian wondered about Mickey a lot. Not so much that he thought that there was anything to it, but occasionally something would remind him of Mickey and his thoughts would stray. 

“Probably gonna put me with the girls again.”

Ian turned to face Mickey.

“What do you mean?”

“They put me with the girls last time. They’re gonna-do it again, probably.”

“That’s stupid.”

“Yeah.”

They didn’t talk much after that, and after a while, a cop came and collected Mickey, and Ian frowned. Stupid as it may be, considering that Mickey Milkovich was Mickey God Damned Milkovich, Ian found himself worried about him. 

\---

Mickey looked down at Ian, Ian looked up at Mickey, Mickey’s weight resting on Ian’s chest, and then he was off of him, tearing his shirt off-he didn’t give much of a fuck if Ian saw his bare chest, cause he wouldn’t be looking at it for long. Not like Mickey ever fucked face-to-face, and Ian stood, stripping his own clothes off and Mickey helped and they helped each other before he rolled onto his front under Ian, felt Ian spreading his legs, and then he stopped. 

“How do you want-”

“Either one’s fine, if you wanna-fuck my ass, make it more-normal, or whatever-”

“Got any lube?”

Mickey fished out a half-empty bottle from under his mattress and passed it to Ian. 

“Here.”

He was almost disappointed that Ian didn’t choose his other hole, but maybe that was safer. At least no pregnancy risk like this. His own hand worked on his front hole while Ian opened him up, and it was all so quick and messy and he frantically rubbed himself when Ian slipped into him, and goddamn, he was big-Mickey wasn’t used to all of that. He’d been fucked plenty, but leave it to a fucking Gallagher to surprise him. Mickey gasped and felt Ian bottom out and then he was moving faster, the two of them working together and individually to get off. Mickey felt a little thrill of the possibility of being caught, the danger of it all, and that, plus the cock pounding him open, plus his own hand rubbing furiously at his clit, it didn’t take him nearly as long as it would if he’d been in bed by himself. He felt himself tighten up around Ian, and Ian stilled, pressing in deep, and even though there wasn’t a pregnancy risk, he was still happy about being able to feel the empty condom wrapped under his knee. He didn’t wanna catch shit. 

Ian was annoyingly gentle when he pulled out, and Mickey didn’t want to examine why he thought that was annoying, and Ian rolled onto his back next to Mickey. Mickey laid next to him, the two of them staring up at the ceiling. 

“Huh.”

Well. That wasn’t too unexpected as a response to what had just happened. Mickey fished a pack of cigarettes out from between his mattress and the wall, and Ian was handing him a lighter, and he decided he didn’t mind if he gave Ian one of his smokes. They quietly smoked together, and Mickey put his out on his tongue, Ian staring at him while he did it. Mickey rolled his eyes, grabbed Ian’s cigarette, and did the same with it. 

“Don’t want you settin’ my fuckin’ bed on fire.”

Ian laid his head back down. 

Mickey didn’t really mind. He never stayed in bed with people. He didn’t like to cuddle or lay around like this, but...Ian was alright. He wasn’t running his mouth, either, and that was surprising but nonetheless pleasant. They stayed like that for a while, until Mickey sighed, rubbing his palms over his face. 

“Wanna go again?”

“Yeah, alright.”

Ian’s voice was nice. Deep, for someone their age, and Mickey rolled back onto his front-or started to. A hand on his shoulder stopped him. 

“Hey, can we-”

The door swung open and Ian moved off of him, both of them staring in terrified anticipation as Terry walked through, into the bathroom. They were both silent until he walked back through, turning to stare at the two boys in bed. 

“One Milkovich girl ain’t enough for you, kid?”

Ian just swallowed and Mickey felt every muscle in his body lock up. Terry, for what it was worth, just shrugged.

“I ain’t payin’ for any abortions.”

And he left. And Ian and Mickey stared at each other, and Mickey tried to un-freeze, and thankfully, Ian knew not to touch him. He sat up, finding his clothes and pulling them on, and Mickey managed to stand and get dressed, and he found where he’d put the gun. He tossed it on the bed next to Ian. 

An unnervingly meaningful shared look between them and a threat to Ian’s wellbeing later, and Mickey was alone again. He found his way outside, his baggy jackets and coats piled on, and he found himself focusing on the ache in his ass and the lingering smell that Ian left on him, and he-against all his better judgement-smiled. 

\---

Ian couldn’t find it in himself to be mad when Kash caught him and Mickey. 

At least, he wasn’t mad at Mickey running out, he wasn’t upset that Kash was mad, but he was increasingly angry at how Kash referred to Mickey. 

“I thought you were gay.”

“I am!”

“Then why were you-”   
“Because Mickey is a guy. He has been for-since elementary school. He’s not any different than we are.”

“I beg to fucking differ.”

“Well, beg, then, I don’t care if you believe me or not.”

“He has a pussy, Ian, if you want anyone to take you seriously as a gay man-”

The growl left Ian’s throat and the punch connected with Kash’s stomach before Ian really knew what was happening, and then Kash was kneeling on the ground, coughing and catching his breath. Ian was snarling-he didn’t think much of it. This was just defending a marginalized person from bigotry. It didn’t have to do with the way Mickey had comforted him after his mom came back, the way he’d not flinched away when Ian kissed his neck, the way Mickey had been more openly spending time at least near Ian over the past few weeks, or the way they’d started to actually talk and get to know each other and how Ian really, really liked when Mickey smiled at him. Kash looked up at Ian, shocked and hurt and Ian really couldn’t find it in himself to care. 

“I take myself seriously. I don’t give a shit if anyone else does. Say a fucking word about this to anyone, and a lot of shit is gonna come down on you.”

Ian went back to working after that, not willing to give Kash’s shitty opinions any more time, and not willing to give much more thought, at that moment, to why he so vehemently defended Mickey.

\---

Getting shot sucked, and juvie sucked, but goddamn it, Ian’s freckled face on the other side of the glass really  _ didn’t  _ suck. It was stupid to think that, especially as Ian got all mushy like he always did, but-Mickey, at night, while curled up alone on his bed in his cell...appreciated the mushy, stupid bullshit on Ian’s part. There was an uncomfortable twinge in his stomach when he thought of Ian and he knew that those were Feelings, and Feelings were a pain and a half in the ass, and Mickey still didn’t want to get rid of them. 

Fantasizing was stupid. Dreaming and imagining that he and Ian could be something was stupid. But in a life of pain and misery like Mickey’s, he figured that those fantasies were maybe the closest he could get to happiness, and he allowed himself them, alone, at night, in his cell. He thought of Ian’s face and his weird features and his freckles and red hair and he imagined that maybe one day he could even kiss him. Mickey had never kissed anyone before. He figured he wouldn’t enjoy it, and that there wasn’t a point when the point was just trying to get pounded out. But Ian...he would enjoy it with him. Mickey, more nights than not, found himself with three fingers buried in himself and biting down on a pillow, thinking of if he’d ever let Ian fuck him there. It felt good and he didn’t mind it too much, the couple of times someone had gone at his front hole. And...he liked the way Ian made him feel. He could be okay with Ian kissing him and touching him in places he generally only touched himself. 

Ian kept coming to see him, and then he was finally being released, and Ian was there, right there with Mandy. Mickey shrugged Ian’s arm off when he felt it around his shoulders, but he made sure to bump against Ian while they walked. He had his own ways to show what could probably be called affection. 

The dugout was quiet and secluded that night and Mickey bit his lip watching Ian drink. He swallowed, kicking at the dirt when Ian started talking.

“Wanna eat me out?”

Ian stopped in the middle of whatever he’d been saying, blinking at Mickey.

“What?”

“You wanna eat me out? My-front hole, you know?”

“You’re...okay, with that?”

“Either do it or don’t, I don’t give a shit-”

Ian pushed him against the wood and held him there-he was strong for a scrawny motherfucker, and he unbuttoned and unzipped Mickey’s pants and had them and his boxers pushed down before Mickey could ask any more questions, and then Ian was on his knees, one of Mickey’s thighs over his shoulder, his mouth clumsily but enthusiastically working over Mickey’s clit. 

“Fuck-Ian, goddamn it-”

Ian licked and sucked at Mickey’s clit, moving lower and exploring-it was pretty obvious Ian had never interacted with this set of parts, and Mickey didn’t mind because for every bit of inexperience Ian had, Mickey had excitement and need and he rolled his hips, pressing onto Ian’s mouth. He felt Ian’s tongue lapping at his hole and the tip was playing right at the entrance, and Mickey gasped, feeling it finally breach him, Ian humming. Mickey threw his hands down to tangle in Ian’s hair, only to realize that it was too short now; oh well. He liked the new haircut. It made Ian look more like a man and less like some idiot kid. Ian brought his hands up and spread Mickey, going at him with more enthusiasm, thrusting his tongue in and out, stopping to lick at everything-every inch of him, and Mickey just...let himself feel it. 

“I-Ian-w-wait-oh-”

Ian’s thumb and forefinger had found Mickey’s clit and he was carefully twitching it, stroking it and rubbing it, and paired with the tongue inside him, Ian’s lips pressed against his folds, Mickey threw his head back and screamed, his hips jerking as he came, wet spurts hitting Ian’s face, and that was an entirely new kind of hot. Both because Mickey had  _ never  _ come like that before, and because holy shit, Ian’s face was covered in his come. Ian pulled away, his eyes shut until he could wipe his fingers over them. He blinked up at Mickey, his mouth covered in shiny slick and hanging open. 

“I-I didn’t know you could-”

“Never-never done it ‘fore-’fore tonight.”

Ian’s eyes lit up and Mickey knew he was probably never going to hear the end of this. 

“I made you-do that? For the first time-”

“Firecrotch, get up here and get your dick out, Jesus fuckin’ Christ-”

Ian laughed and Mickey really liked the way Ian laughed, it was dorky and ridiculous and he smiled as Ian turned him around, bending him over, and started to press his fingers against Mickey’s asshole, and Mickey swallowed and reached back. 

“Wait-”

“What’s wrong? Usually always asking for round two-”

“I-use the other one.”

“Other...what?”

“You ain’t stupid, Gallagher, use-”

“Oh-oh-ohhh-you want me to fuck your-”

“Yeah.”

There was silence for a moment. 

“You sure?”

“Ain’t the first time it’s been used, man, come on-”

He felt fingers in his hair, stroking along his scalp, and his own mouth dropped open. That felt way too good.  _ Way  _ too good. Mickey was pretty sure he just discovered something about himself.

“Just wanted to be sure, Mick.”

A condom wrapper tearing and then Ian’s little gasp as he rolled it onto his cock, and Mickey took in a sharp breath as he felt Ian’s cockhead against his front hole, and then-   
“Oh-”

Mickey’s voice was smaller than he wanted it to be, but Ian...felt  _ really _ , really good. He was slow when he thrusted into Mickey, like he was afraid of hurting him or upsetting him and Mickey didn’t want to put too much brain power into thinking about why that thought, that Ian worried about him, made him feel good. 

“Oh-f-fuck-”

Good to know Ian seemed to be as torn apart as Mickey was. 

“I-I’ve never-”

“It’s-fuck, just the same as-anythin’ else, a-alright?”

“I-I know, but-fuck-feels-different-”

“Shut up-”

Ian did, thankfully, shut up, sensing the coldness in Mickey’s voice. Mickey didn’t want any comments on how it felt ‘different’. He just wanted Ian to fuck him, and fuck him, Ian did. He put one hand on Mickey’s hip and the other on the small of his back, and they did what they always did, except now Mickey felt something new and unexpected rising in his gut, and he kind of wished Ian was holding his hand, like he would sometimes when they did what they always did. It wasn’t very long before Ian started swearing, his hips working faster, and Mickey did grab one of Ian’s hands then, bringing it between his legs, placing it where he wanted it. 

“C’mon-come on, again-”

Ian took the hint and rubbed Mickey’s clit, that and the feeling of Ian’s cock driving in and out, deeper into him, faster, and Mickey shut his eyes tight and gasped, feeling himself squirt on Ian’s cock, the wetness running down his legs. His eyes rolled back in his head and Ian let out a long, low moan, and his dick was pulsing and Mickey whimpered and would literally never admit that that noise came out of him, but he did know that Ian liked the noises he made for him, and they were  _ for him _ , and Mickey felt...oddly positive and gleeful when Ian pulled out. Sometimes after having sex in his front hole, he would feel-weird, or uncomfortable, or like he’d been used in a way he didn’t approve of, but knowing it was Ian-it was okay. It was good. He smiled and leaned against the wood in front of him, panting and stretching his arms out. 

“Fuck.”

“Yeah.”

Ian held out a lit cigarette to him, and he took it, still not really moving from the position he was in. Smoke filled his lungs and he kept smiling. 

\---

At least Frank wasn’t being...as weird as he could have been about all of this. 

Ian didn’t expect Frank to have any issues with his relationship with Mickey, but he also didn’t really want Frank...to know. Frank had misgendered Mickey on a handful of occasions, because he was fine with every low blow possible when he was mad, but he generally used the right terms for him because he didn’t care. But still-Ian didn’t want Frank in his goddamn business. 

Plus, Terry still kind of hated Ian, for-whatever that man hated people for-and he wasn’t exactly keen on Mickey getting caught up with a Gallagher. 

Mickey wanted to kill Frank. Ian wasn’t sure if he entirely disagreed with that plan. 

Of course he did have to stop him, but he still struggled with it. 

Frank was distant or weird when he was talking to Ian about it, but he did basically agree that he wouldn’t say anything to anyone. 

That still didn’t stop Mickey from showing up, his face bloody and almost broken, and Ian freaking out about it.

“What the-fuck happened?”

“Nothin’. Just-comin’ to say-”

Mickey looked away from him. 

“Just wanted to say-it’s done. This. Us.”

That...wasn’t what Ian was expecting. He approached Mickey and Mickey backed away, glancing up at him with bloodshot eyes. 

“Mick, what happened?”

“None of your goddamn business, Gallagher, I-”

“Was it your dad?”

Mickey bit his bloody lip and Ian knew he was on the mark with that. Mickey’s eyes were wet, and that was weird, because Mickey didn’t really ever cry at all, and his voice hitched a little when he talked.

“Found my-”

He stopped and Ian let him.

“He found-my binder and-hormones. Burned ‘em.”

“Jesus, Mick.”

Mickey shook his head. 

“Doesn’t matter. Was-stupid of me to do any of that anyway-”

“Any of what?”

“Being a goddamn man, Ian! I should-”

His voice was actively wavering now, and Ian felt cold in his core. He didn’t want Mickey to feel like this. 

“-should just-give up on it. On bein’-no one’s ever gonna take me seriously, I’m never gonna-”

“It doesn’t matter what other people think-”

“What fuckin’ world do you live in? The  _ only  _ thing that matters is what other people think-”

“Mickey, please-”

“Don’t talk to me like that-”

“Like what?”

Mickey pulled a face and Ian felt combative because that’s what his family did. 

“Like-I’m a fuckin’-”

He groaned and shook his head, moving back towards the door. 

“What the fuck ever, I-I told you, I’m here to say-this is it.”

“Why?”

“Cause-you’re gay and I’m not a fuckin’ dude, so just-go find some dick to ride or somethin’ and I’m gonna go-”

“I don’t want you to go-”

Mickey’s fist connected with his jaw and he wasn’t really surprised, and he wasn’t really hurt, not by the punch. That wasn’t what hurt here. Mickey left without another word and Ian...didn’t know what to do. 

\---

Couple of months in the joint weren’t too bad. 

It helped that he met Remo. 

Remo was a nice guy. As nice as someone in on attempted murder can get, but, hey, Mickey knew a couple of actual murderers and most of them were alright guys. It was fucked up but kind of nice that there were two guys like them in prison together at the same time-plus two others who weren’t women, but they weren’t men, either, and Mickey didn’t really understand that whole ‘nonbinary’ thing at first, but Lex explained it to him and he listened-he was trying to be patient sometimes-and it kinda clicked in his head. Anyway, regardless of gender, Lex and Toothpick were good people. Trustworthy people. Took some getting used to, using pronouns that weren’t ‘he’ or ‘she’ for both of them, but it wasn’t too hard. Shit, he figured if people could do it for him, then he could do it for others. Didn’t take that much goddamn work to be a little courteous. 

Everyone thought Mickey was a real asshole and they were right, but that didn’t mean he didn’t  _ know  _ his manners. He just...didn’t utilize them a whole lot. 

Toothpick threw a card at him. 

“Hey, fuckface, pay attention.”

Mickey flipped eym off. 

“Shut the fuck up, cockwad.”

Ey threw another card at Mickey and he rolled his eyes, and Lex snickered and Remo huffed through his nose. 

“Both of y’all shut the fuck up. Jesus. Like playin’ cards with some methed up children.”

Lex leaned on Remo’s shoulder and yawned, and Remo turned his head enough to kiss the top of their head. Mickey watched, before locking his eyes on his card. 

“Hey, Mick, you lookin’ a little jealous-sorry, Remmy don’t share.”

“Trust me, not lookin’.”

Lex cooed and leaned forward, grinning and showing off their missing teeth.

“Aw, what, not your type? Hey, Toothpick, maybe he wants to take you for a ride-”

Ey made a face. 

“Gross. I like girls.”

Mickey rolled his eyes and pulled a card. 

“Yeah, and I like boys.”

He paused. That was the first time he’d ever said that as plainly as he just did. The other three people at the table took notice, but didn’t say anything. Remo set his hand down. 

“Straight.”

“Not a goddamn person at this table, Remmy.”

Lex spared a glance at Mickey, and he averted his eyes again. 

“So what’s your deal, then? Got a boyfriend back home?”

Mickey chewed on his lip. 

“Did. Kinda.”

“What happened? Break-up? Beat down? Kill ‘im?”

“No, shithead, we-”

Mickey sighed.

“I did-I dumped him, but-we weren’t-it was a fuckbuddy thing. Nothin’ serious.”

“Mhm. Sure.”

“Shut the fuck up, it wasn’t-”

“Why’d you dump him?”

Toothpick interjected and Mickey shot eym a look. 

“Mind your damn business, dental floss.”

Toothpick grinned. 

“Dental dam might be more apropos.”

Mickey dealt another hand and sighed. 

“I...told him...he’d be better off findin’-you know. A-dude who was born a dude.”

“Why did you think that?”

“Cause the kid’s-you know-fuckin’ proud of being fuckin’ gay-if he’s caught bangin’ me, people-”

“Who gives a fuck, dude?”

Remo spoke matter-of-factly, like usual, and Mickey looked over at him. 

“Uh...the whole fuckin’ world, man.”

“Fuck the world. You’re a man. Deal with it. Make other people deal with it. Sounds like you’re the one who thought that shit, not your boyfriend. Did he ever act like you weren’t a man?”

Mickey was quiet, and he shrugged. 

“....No. He-Ian was always...he was cool with it.”

“Then you’re just being self-destructive. The world’s gonna be shit no matter what, especially to people like us-on a institutional scale and a personal one. Nut up and accept that, and once you accept it-do what you can to change it. Even just on a personal level.”

“Jesus, someone pay you to give that motivational speech?”

Mickey was deflecting with humor, because that’s what he always did, but Remo’s words...kind of stuck around in his mind. Ian had never once indicated that he saw Mickey as anything other than a man-shit, he’d had that black chick his family hung around come show him how to inject his testosterone properly, and he’d rubbed Mickey’s ribs after taking his binder off, helping him breathe and stretch-Ian didn’t have any problems with what and who Mickey was. 

Mickey wondered if he had a problem with what and who he was. 

He thought about it, for a long while, a couple of nights spent lost on the subject. Why did he feel so negative about himself? He knew part of it was the knowledge of how terrible the world could and would be about his gender. He knew part of it was the knowledge that his dad thought he was a freak-but his dad was a freak in about a million ways, so maybe that shouldn’t matter so much to him. His siblings supported him. They didn’t necessarily understand, but his brothers-who might actually be cousins, now that he thinks of it, had reacted to his coming out to them with a resounding ‘hell yeah, another brother!’ and Mandy had begrudgingly accepted that she was, in fact, the only Milkovich sister. It...had actually only ever been a problem with random people in his life and his father. Even Ian’s family didn’t care. The younger siblings had only ever known of him as a man, Fiona and Lip were always clearly a little on edge about it, but respectful, and his dad-well, his dad was a piece of shit drunken bastard, but even he wasn’t that much of a dick about it. 

He occasionally was, but...shit, it’s not like Mickey hadn’t taken some low blows while hammered out of his mind and pissed off.

Mickey stared up at the bottom of the bunk above him. Was all of this negativity from regret? 

Did he regret being transgender? A little voice in his head-the voice that sounded like Remo’s low, even tone-said ‘no, dumbass, and that’s a normal thing for trans people to experience’, and, yeah, if he really had to answer that question, he didn’t regret it. He hated how the world treated him and he hated how people saw him-either as a half-man, a fucked up lesbian, a tomboy straight girl, or just a straight up freak-and he hated that he couldn’t get over his own body sometimes, but he felt good when people did see him as a man. When Mandy had brought home a balloon saying ‘it’s a boy’ when he came out to her, when his brothers included him on their boy’s nights, when Ian held his hand and smiled at him and rolled his eyes whenever Mickey would blush and pull away and tell him to ‘stop with the chick flick shit’. 

That last one was affirming in a more intangible way. Ian was gay. Ian liked Mickey. Mickey was trans, but Ian still liked Mickey, so Ian saw him as a man. He felt better knowing that Ian found him attractive, found him desirable. Mickey sighed. Sometimes he did wish he wasn’t trans, because life would probably be easier, but he supposed that absolutely no part of his life had been fucking easy, so why would this be? Maybe that was just something he was supposed to deal with. 

He could deal with it. Like Remo had said: the world was shit. It was always going to be shit, especially to people like him-hell, he was going to be shitty to himself-but he could deal with that. He was Mikhailo Aleksandr Milkovich. He’d be fine no matter what happened. He could get his way into and out of anything. 

Maybe he could even get back into Ian Gallagher’s life.

\---

Ian leaned on the bars as Mickey kicked the shit out of the guy Ian had been fucking. He could tell Mickey wasn’t mad about the fact that Ian had been having sex-they’d talked about that, how ‘exclusive’ they wanted to be, and bets were off when Mickey was in prison so long as Ian understood that the second Mickey was out and back in town, he was expecting to get fucked. Of course, after the last time-he hadn’t really known if Mickey would want him back. He’d seemed set on ending the relationship they had built, which...had hurt. A lot. Ian knew Mickey was going to have some hangups about romantic feelings no matter what, but they’d never even really expressed that to each other. Mickey was a bit of a wildcard. 

“Get the fuck out, you little bitch!”

The guy ran, and Ian smiled, looking at Mickey. 

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

Mickey grinned. 

“Wanna finish up in somethin’ better than that dumbass?”

Ian rolled his eyes and sat on the ground, pulling Mickey onto his lap, the both of them tugging their pants down until Ian could slip into Mickey; when Mickey had gotten himself into prison once again, they’d gotten to a point where Ian almost exclusively fucked Mickey’s front hole, and Ian was surprised by how much he loved it, but, hey. Mickey was a real wildcard. He made Ian feel a lot of things he hadn’t felt before. He thrusted up into Mickey, a little careful, and felt Mickey slap the back of his head-not to hurt him, just to get his attention.

“Hey-ain’t made of fuckin’ glass, get to it, army-”

Ian grinned and pressed his face against Mickey’s neck, fucking up into him, working his hips until Mickey was gasping on top of him, blunt nails clawing at Ian’s short hair. It wasn’t long before he was pushing a hand between them to rub at Mickey’s clit, then Mickey’s thighs were tightening around him and Mickey was making those sweet, sweet noises that signaled he was close, and Ian groaned, pressing in as deep as he could as his cock pulsed, and Mickey’s fingers were petting his scalp. He caught his breath and gently lifted Mickey off of him, pushing him to lay on the ground and getting down between his legs before Mickey could protest. Ian immediately sucked on Mickey’s clit-it had grown some from the testosterone that Ian knew Mickey had gotten his hands on, before and during prison, and Ian...was a little obsessed with it. He pushed two fingers into Mickey’s well-fucked front hole and curled them up, fucking Mickey with his fingers and sucking him at the same time and it really was only a minute before Mickey was biting his own hand and squeezing his eyes shut and squirting on Ian’s face and fingers. He really loved that. Like-he enjoyed the feeling of a cock coming on his face, but Mickey was different and-well. It was more special with him. 

“F-fuck-f-mm-”

Mickey was twitching and whining and his legs were shaking and Ian pulled back and wiped his face with his tshirt. He grinned at Mickey and Mickey kept shaking for a few moments. Ian got his clothes righted and helped Mickey do the same, and they sat next to each other, soon passing a cigarette back and forth. 

“Missed you.”

Ian inhaled and passed the cigarette back to Mickey.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Why you always gotta ruin shit with questions? Can’t I just miss your dick when it ain’t around?”

Ian laughed. 

“So now you just miss my dick?”

Mickey flicked some ashes at him.

“Shut up.”

Ian watched Mickey for a second. 

“You going back to school?”

“Fuck no. Ain’t passed a single class whole time I been there.”   
“What are you gonna do?”

“Got some collections to make. After that-same old shit, I guess.”

Ian inhaled the smoke and exhaled, still watching Mickey.

“Still got a job at the store, if you want it.”   
Mickey glanced at him. 

“Yeah. I’ll be there.”

Ian smiled and Mickey rolled his eyes. 

“Get that goony ass look off your face, Jesus Christ, Ian-”

\---

Mickey hadn’t really expected to follow Ian to the bar. But-he was pissed off, and, much harder to admit, he was...hurt. He didn’t really want Ian to be seeing other people, but they hadn’t had the ‘exclusive’ talk yet, and he didn’t even know if Ian wanted that, but-he was discovering that he did. And really, some old dude? Good God. He figured Ian would have better taste than that. Especially such a prissy old fuck. But the guy seemed to get Ian into bars and places like that and Ian liked to party and have fun, and Mickey-probably wouldn’t even be allowed in a goddamn gay bar. He already wasn’t allowed in a few regular bars. Mickey tossed his beer can to the side and approached Ian and the old man in the street. 

He already wasn’t sure what he wanted to say or do, but the man propositioning him-that put a plan in his head, and that plan was ‘beat the shit out of this dude’. 

It took Ian and the threat of cops to get him to stop, and he hadn’t known if Ian would come with him, but he did. Ian ran with him and when they got to an alley, Ian started laughing, started playing with Mickey, chasing him and they were both smiling bigger than Mickey ever had before. They did that, when Mickey wasn’t in a shit mood. It occurred to him that they were, surprisingly, actually pretty good friends. He enjoyed spending time with Ian. He liked to just be in his presence and do mundane bullshit with him. 

Of course, somehow, they ended up having to deal with the old dude again. 

And, of course, it was involving them breaking into a house. 

Mickey smoked and shot at the brick surrounding Ian’s little training area. The kid really worked too hard. 

“Said you can take whatever you want. His wife should be out of it on pills and alcohol, shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Can I bring my boys?”

“Yeah.”

Mickey shot nearer Ian’s feet, making the redhead jump.

“Jesus, Mick! You coulda used blanks-”

“Coulda. Didn’t.”

Mickey inhaled, looking down at Ian. 

“Don’t get what you see in that geriatric viagroid.”

Ian shrugged, looking up at Mickey, undeterred.

“He’s nice. Buys me stuff. Treats me well.”

There was a pause. 

“He’s not afraid to kiss me.”   
Mickey swallowed, his gut tightening up. He didn’t really have anything to say to that, but it weighed on him. 

So when they were at the old man’s house, and Mickey’s brothers were already at the door, Mickey ran back to the van and jumped in, pressing his lips to Ian’s for a brief moment. He tried not to think too much about it as they hauled things to the van; he tried not to think too much about the fact that he’d just had his first kiss. Mickey had been careful to avoid kissing, because-he really wasn’t the kind of person who wanted what he felt like kissing represented. Kissing meant something and no one had meant something to him before. 

Fucking Gallaghers. 

And then the old woman was awake and firing shots and he got hit and that was pretty much how he expected the day to go, if he was being truthful. That was how shit went for him all the time. 

And then, because, of fucking course, he was in Ian’s house and who shows up but fucking old man motherfucker. 

At least he was getting the bullet taken out of his ass. Man. It was gonna take forever to get muscle definition back in it. 

\---

Ian had really, really loved spending time at Mickey’s house. Alone. With Mickey. They’d gone through two-thirds of a box of condoms already. A big box. 

But it was time to help Mickey with his injections-sometimes Mickey’s hands got shaky and he couldn’t do it, and Ian had learned from Veronica how to, and he really liked that Mickey let him help. It felt good, knowing that Mickey wanted his help. 

It didn’t feel as good when Terry came in and saw them, half-naked and Ian injecting testosterone into Mickey’s thigh, and it was all really a blur after that. Ian was coherent when Terry was punching him, when Terry started to attack Mickey because-Jesus, Mickey had jumped on his dad to try and get him to stop, and then Terry had a gun to Ian’s head and was threatening to cut Mickey’s clit off. They both begged for him not to-he listened, at least for the moment. He kept Ian at the end of the gun and called someone, telling them to come over, and Mickey was-Ian had seen Mickey scared before, but never like this. He thought maybe Mickey knew what was coming, and what was coming turned out to be three men, and when the first one held Mickey down and started-that’s when Ian shut off. He wanted to help-he tried to help, he jumped up only to feel a knife at his throat, and Terry was telling him he’d watch them all prove that Mickey was a girl and that after that, he was going to burn any of that ‘freak tranny shit’ once and for all. 

It went on for a long time. Ian wanted to claw his own eyes out when Terry took a turn, but he knew if he did anything, both he and Mickey wouldn’t make it out of this house alive. All he could do was quietly say ‘I’m sorry’, over and over, until it was over.

\---

He was pregnant. 

It almost didn’t connect in his head. That he was pregnant, that it was real, and that he couldn’t do anything about it. He supposed he could drink it out, smoke it out, drug it out, but he took his father’s threat seriously. He knew it would just keep happening again and again, until he had a child or he was dead. 

He almost wanted to go with the latter option, just to get it over with. It’d be better than this. 

He hadn’t seen Ian since it happened. He wanted to. Mickey wasn’t stupid; he kept his feelings bottled up and tried to make himself look as stupid as possible, because life was easier that way, but he knew what he felt for Ian and he damn well knew that he wanted and needed Ian right now, but...he didn’t really know what Ian would do. A rational part of his brain-that voice that sounded like Remo-said he would be fine. It would be fine if he told Ian the truth and went to him and Ian would help him, maybe even help him get rid of it and stay safe afterwards. But Mickey, while stupid, was never one to say he stayed rational at all times and in all situations. 

And then Ian found him freezing his ass off in an abandoned building. He would have been drinking, but Terry had gone around to all the liquor stores in the area and threatened them into not selling to Mickey. He’d done the same to the abortion clinics and anyone selling pills for it. Ian was mad. He was talking and yelling and upset and Mickey couldn’t really do anything, even when Ian was begging. 

“Mickey, please-”   
His voice was close now, and Mickey glanced up just long enough to see that Ian was kneeling next to him. 

“-let me help-”

That got him. 

He wanted help. He wanted help. He wanted Ian to help him with-this batshit stupid situation that he was stuck in, he wanted out, he wanted to be somewhere safe. 

Mickey looked up at Ian, thinking of what to say.

“I got knocked up.”

He could visibly see the blood drain from Ian’s face.

“What-”

“Those-they weren’t-my dad wanted them to knock me up, and-I can’t get rid of it-he said he’d-just keep doin’ it until-said it’s either bred or dead.”

“Jesus-Mickey, come on, we’re getting the fuck away from here-”

“And goin’ where, Ian?”

Ian leaned in and kissed Mickey’s forehead, and that did something weird to Mickey’s feelings, and he closed his eyes, savoring the feeling. 

“Anywhere. Out of the state-out of the fucking country, Mick, you have to get away from him-”

It was a stupid plan. It wouldn’t work. They could only get so far, they could always get found, Mickey’s brain rolled through about ninety-seven different scenarios of how this plan could end in total dogshit, but he looked up at Ian, both of them shivering, and he swallowed. 

“Okay.”

He might have just agreed because he was still extremely numb-being raped and knocked up by your father and his friends really messed with your head-and he might have agreed because sometimes he was stupid, but he wanted this. To go run off with Ian into the sunset like the most fucked up romantic comedy on the planet, he wanted-he wanted Ian’s help. 

Ian cupped his face, his thumbs stroking over Mickey’s cheekbones, and he very softly kissed him on the lips. It wasn’t deep, it wasn’t long, but it felt amazing, and Mickey was happy that Ian didn’t bring any attention to the wet tear tracks on his cheeks. 

\---

They were in Utah, now. 

Slowly making their way to the west coast, with mostly stolen cars and a lot of stolen money, but they were laying in a shit motel with a shit mattress and Mickey’s head was resting on Ian’s chest and he was pressed up against Ian’s side and Ian couldn’t really find it in himself to be super upset about the crappy living conditions when he could feel little puffs of Mickey’s breath on his skin. 

“If it was ours, I’d keep it.”

Ian looked down at Mickey’s dark hair, putting his other arm around Mickey, keeping him close. 

“What?”

Mickey shrugged.

“If it was ours-the kid. I’d keep it.”

Oh. 

That sent a shot of warmth through Ian’s stomach and chest and he smiled-he didn’t even know why he was smiling. Mickey had said it so matter-of-factly and without any real emotion, but-he liked that. 

“Really?”

“....Yeah. Don’t really wanna go havin’-a fuckin’ brood anytime soon, but-wouldn’t mind puttin’ another Gallagher in the world.”

“A Gallagher-Milkovich kid. I don’t think the world’s ever gonna be ready for that holy terror.”

That got a laugh out of Mickey, and Ian cupped Mickey’s cheek and turned his head up to look at him. Mickey really was gorgeous, big eyes and still a little bit of a babyface. Ian hoped they could get him started on testosterone again soon, because Mickey had insisted that that would take out some of that babyface-ness, and Ian wanted Mickey to feel good and right. Mickey smiled, and it was so goddamn sweet that Ian had to suck in a breath. 

“World can learn to fuckin’ deal with it. Our kids’d be kickin’ the whole world’s ass anyway.”

Ian laughed and leaned down, kissing Mickey, moaning against his lips, and Mickey shifted until he could straddle Ian’s thigh, rubbing against it; they hadn’t had sex since Mickey had gotten pregnant, and Ian had been okay with that. He didn’t want to push Mickey right now. 

Though feeling Mickey’s boxers get wet against his thigh was pretty nice. 

He grabbed Mickey’s hips and helped him move, helped him get a good angle on Ian’s thigh, gasping against Ian’s lips while he rubbed down. He broke the kiss and leaned his head on Ian’s shoulder, whimpering and rocking his hips, Ian holding him tight, quietly talking to him until he sped up, trying to finish, and then Ian was grinning because Mickey made that sweet, unbelievably sexy noise he made when he came and he felt Mickey’s boxers get even wetter. Mickey collapsed all of his weight onto him, and Ian laughed, holding him tight. He started stroking his fingers through Mickey’s hair and felt Mickey’s entire body relax; there was nothing he loved more than having his hair stroked, Ian had figured that out about his boyfriend a while ago. They laid there like that, until Mickey turned his head and kissed at Ian’s neck. 

“Want me to suck you off?”

“If you want.”

“Jesus, learn to take charge-”

Ian rolled his eyes and laid back as Mickey moved down his body, pulling Ian’s boxers down until he could wrap his lips around Ian’s cock, quickly and easily getting him off. He’d already gotten close from feeling Mickey coming on him, and Mickey looked so good with his jaw stretched and his eyes big and wet, looking up at Ian while he forced as much of Ian’s cock down as he could. Ian emptied down Mickey’s throat and groaned, one hand tangling in Mickey’s hair to hold him in place. He kept his fingers in Mickey’s hair and pulled him off, and back up so that he could kiss him again. Mickey was smiling and shifted until his back was to Ian, laying on his side, and he grabbed Ian’s hand and pulled it to his front. He sighed, and Ian leaned forward, inhaling at the nape of Mickey’s neck. God, he loved the way Mickey smelled. He couldn’t put his finger on what exactly Mickey smelled like or why he liked it so much, but he did. He smiled and pressed a few kisses to the knot of bone at the top of Mickey’s spine.

“Would you really-wanna have kids? With me?”

Mickey shrugged. 

“Yeah. Never really-wanted to have kids, but-think I’d-wouldn’t mind havin’ a little ginger bastard runnin’ around.”

“Mm. Bet it’d look like you.”

“Yeah?”

“Bet the Milkovich genes are stronger than Gallagher ones.”

“God, I hope not-”

Ian laughed and squeezed Mickey’s waist, thinking about the future.


End file.
